


The Story Teller - Prologue

by nothing_happens_to_me



Series: The Story Teller [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-06 11:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4219827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothing_happens_to_me/pseuds/nothing_happens_to_me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Moriarty also has an OTP - and it is JIMLOCK!</p><p>Rating will be raised later on.</p><p>(I would prefer "Sheriarty" - sounds much better, doesn't it? But of course our maniac CC has to be named FIRST! So you won't tell him, eh? He would certainly kill me...!)</p><p>Thanks to prodigalmind who helps me to transfer this to English!<br/>http://prodigalmind.tumblr.com/</p><p>This is a meta-fic by the way.<br/>So learn how it all started!</p><p>P.S. In case one of you can read German, would you perhaps help us a bit with the translation? That would be great!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Sorcerer King (1982)

  


  
  
Once upon a time there was a tiny and frail but brilliant boy. His name was Jimmy, he was of Irish descent with black hair and black eyes. Jimmy was always very lonely, because all the other children were so much dumber than he. They even were so stupid, that none of them could understand that Jimmy was the smartest of them all. On the very first day of primary school the teacher asked all the pupils what they wanted to be when they grew up. The girls wanted to be princesses, pop stars or movie actresses, the boys celebrated football stars and other top athletes, policemen or firemen and some wanted to be James Bond. When it was Jimmy's turn, he said: “I will become the greatest wizard of all times and then I'll make myself king over the whole world!”  
He was laughed at by the whole class and even the teacher couldn't help it.  
  
So it happened that Jimmy withdrew from day one on, and secretly plotted how he could transpose his dream into reality.  
The other kids were horrible – the girls were terrible anyway, but the boys were not much better. They did not understand why Jimmy preferred to create fairy tales to playing football. One time, as he wrote down one of those stories in an essay – because it was the task to create a fairy tale – the teacher, completely horrified, called his mother over, because the little genius had not only let the villain of the tale, a dark wizard who had turned his own heart into stone, get away with the murder of the princess, her parents and of the seven fairy godmothers – no, the wizard had on top of that also bewitched the brave, handsome son of the king, married him and made him his prince consort!  
  
But Jimmy's mother only read through the terms of reference for the classwork and told the shocked teacher: "You will surely have to admit that he has not missed the point. He took into account all of your requirements – so what's your problem!?"

 


	2. Let's play war! (1983)

  
Jimmy’s father was an IT specialist and as it soon showed, would the year 1976 not only go into history, as the year in which Jim was born, but also for the invention of the personal computer! And that's why little Jim, like almost no other child of his age, already started to use an Apple I, even before he came into school.  
When Jim was eight years old, his father bought him a book. At first Jim was disappointed that it wasn't a computer game, as was usually the case. But his father told him that it was the novel to an American movie called WarGames, that he had just recently seen in the cinema. Unfortunately, the film had an age rating of twelve. It was about a teenager named David, who is fond of playing computer games and starts to hack into the computer of his favourite games manufacturer, using the telephone lines. But instead, he ends up in the central computer, which controls the US nuclear arsenal. There he finds a lot of games like chess and poker – which is why it isn't surprising that he doesn't notice his mistake – but also something that looks like a super cool and realistic nuclear war game. What David doesn't know: It's not a game – and he almost causes the Third World War.  
  
Jimmy was intrigued! But by now he had learned that he wasn't allowed to show it, when it involved people getting hurt or even killed.  
"Dad!" he asked with big eyes. "Do you think that it'd be possible? Or is it just science fiction?"  
"Yes, Jimmy-boy, things like that are possible. And even before you grow up, the technology will have made remarkable progresses in this regard. That's fantastic – but as you can see, it can also have very dire consequences."  
After Grimm's fairy tales, WarGames remained Jim's favourite book for a long time.  
  
  
  
  



	3. I've got the Powers! (1989)

 

 

  
“You'll have to choose at least one club sport, my boy!” Jim's father urged one day – despite not being much of a sporting ace himself, as IT-specialists and other nerds usually weren't. But because Jimmy – spending almost every day with his computer and his books – seemed to catch every available cold viruses, so his caring father hoped some training of any kind could help.  
Jimmy didn't even need a second to make his choice: Swimming!  
He was thirteen now and already clever enough to conceal his true motive for his decision, for he actually hated the chlorine biting his eyes and nose, and he was afraid of the bigger and stronger boys who undoubtedly would play their pranks on him by trying to drown him at any occasion, and yet he chose it, because there was nothing he loved more than watching the lean and strong, almost naked bodies of young boys gliding through the water – or even better: observing those guys stepping out of the pool with drops of water on their skin, glistening like pearls while they moved and panted. One day, Jimmy believed, he would meet the one, and then he'd take him home to his kingdom and make him his prince consort!  
  
It didn't take long that at a competition Jim saw a champion from a school in Brighton, preparing himself for the race. He was only eleven years old but he appeared much older, as he was already a tall and athletic guy with all his gorgeous muscles at the right places. It was a real pleasure to watch him and Jim fell head over heels for the stranger’s gorgeous body. And of course, exactly this boy won the race. Oh, he was like a knight in shining armour, knocking all the other knights out of their saddles, winning the royal tournament – and if that wasn't enough, he had the most suitable name: Carl Powers – yes, indeed, his surname was actually Powers.   
After the presentation ceremony, Jim went over to the boy, wanting to congratulate and of course befriend him. At first, Carl looked him over, baffled, before giving him a sneering glance, he and his mates starting to mock him, laughing at the poor little fellow.  
But on top of everything, did Carl's hurting jokes also reveal his unendurable stupidity!

At that point Jim’s burning love turned into hate and his little heart became as black as gone out coal. From this day on he craved revenge.  
So he set on finding out everything about his enemy, then, in lightning-speed, he read a few books... – and in the next school championship that took place in London Carl Powers had some kind of fit in the water and drowned. Nobody could explain how this fatality could have happened.  
However, Jimmy, our small genius, felt happier and mightier as he ever had before in his young life. He realised that he and only he had quite special powers. And one of his mightiest skills consisted in the fact that nobody anticipated what was inside of his brain and his heart!

 


	4. The Tidings of the Frood Prince) (1989 II)

  
The police arrived, some of the young swimmers and their mothers were crying, parents complained, coaches defended themselves and the two lifeguards were upset because they hadn't managed to save Carl – it was a mess! And so it wasn't difficult for Jimmy to cover his tracks: He stole Carl's sneakers, his socks and the ointment that he had poisoned. He wouldn't let himself get caught – not like the stupid stepmother of Snow White!  
Jimmy was getting a kick out of it! He overheard the helpless policemen and gloated over the horror and fear of all the people around him. He had accomplished all that, he alone, using the power of his intellect!  
In all this confusion, his father found him and Jimmy looked at him with an expression of deep despair before falling into his arms, sobbing: "Please, Dad, I'm afraid! I don't want to swim anymore!" he pleaded. "Informatics, chess, playing theatre – everything! But nothing that has to do with water, please, please ...!"  
  
Computer and chess? The father agreed only too happy! And Jimmy never had to swim again.  


A few days later his father told him, while reading the newspaper, a friend of his had heard that a newspaper reader who had followed the case of Carl Powers, had reported to the police because he thought it was strange that there was no trace of Carl's shoes. At first they had started an investigation – but when it turned out that the witness was only twelve years old, they hadn't further followed this track.  
"How stupid!" Jim’s father said. "I would bet the boy is right! He certainly has more brains in his little finger than the whole Yard!"  
Suddenly Jimmy was all ears and his small, icy heart began to beat wildly in his chest.  
'It's him ...!' it shouted. 'You have to find him!'  
'Be quiet!' Jim scolded silently: 'I clearly have to find him, but to what end has yet to be seen!'  
He pondered how he could do it, but that was more difficult than expected! All he could find when he hacked into the computers of the police and the newspaper was that the boy’s name was Sherlock Holmes and that he was only a few month younger than him! But where the wanted boy lived, which school he visited or what he looked like, remained hidden from Jimmy, no matter how badly he sought. Therefore, he was very sad and continuously getting sicker.  
His parents had no idea what was wrong with him. And although he had actually already outgrown the age of fairy tales, his mother gave him a complete edition of the tales of Hans Christian Andersen.  
His father tried to cheer him up. He bought him computer games and he talked about his work, what caused Jims hope to raise again, because in the same year Carl Powers had died, something had been developed which should revolutionise the world: The Internet! Right now it only served for scientific and soon also for military purposes, but Jim's father stated that it wouldn't be long until every person who had a computer and a phone line, could use it completely naturally, to communicate with others, to order everything one could possibly buy home, and to voice opinions. And when that time would come, one would be able to track down everything and everyone on the Internet.  
It still took a while until the establishment of the Worldwide Web, but Jim was dead sure: One day – in a few years, every halfway intelligent person would be in this network and use it for all sorts of things...  
And then – then he would find him!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frood: https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/frood  
> I wanted the title to appear quite ancient


	5. Mental Cinema* (1990-1996)

  
  
Years passed. Jimmy became Jim, became James. He followed in his father's footsteps and especially the Internet had become his element. He loved it at least as much as Carl Powers had loved water, yes, he was like a fish in water in it – but even more: He found in it everything he'd sought: amazing poisons, secret wonder weapons, unmeasurable treasures and people with special skills, people with unfulfilled desires, people full of greed, full of wrath, people with dark cold hearts, like his.  
Except him. He didn't find him.  
  
  
James distracted his restless spirit and his empty, sick heart in any possible way. By now he regretted not having joined the theatre group at his school, but he had felt that his father wouldn't have liked it; it would have seemed a bit queer and Jim always opted for concealing his true interests. Later on, Jim simply had been too busy for any sorts of hobbies.  
Nevertheless, he read a lot, especially plays that he directed in his head. Ah, yes, the Shakespearean villains...!  
He especially appreciated the character of Jago from Othello: Everyone thinks he is an honest, friendly and loyal guy, so that he is able to ruin his good master's life just by telling lies – an almost perfect crime. If there wasn't his wife, who sees through his intrigues when it is too late to save the victims, and who betrays him last.  
So be careful with any appendages that have to be initiated into your plans...!  
  
Jim also studied the authors of his Irish homeland.  
  
To Oscar Wilde, he had a very strange, ambivalent relationship – not only because this writer also had been gay as he himself, but Wilde had also been brilliant, at least as a poet. There were so wonderfully honed cynicism in his comedies! But Wilde had also conjured his own demise by his unwise and arrogant behavior. Something that would never happen to him!  
  
Ironically Wilde's funniest and most lightly comedy made Jim a little thoughtful: The Importance of Being Earnest. Because one of the two young gentlemen who are at the center of events, has a second identity. Under that alias he kicks over the traces whenever he likes. His friend has a similar trick: He has invented a sick friend, he always has to “visit” when he wants to break out of his normal life.  
  
A second identity..., pondered Jim. That could be really useful. I'll keep the thought in mind until I am sure, how to implement it the best. I should not hurry with such an important decision...  
...and most certainly I won't call myself Earnest! Better Serenus or Hilarius!  
Sly? Of course it would fit, but I prefer to hide this quality.  
Innocent? Oh please, I'm not a pope, but that would really be funny!  
Irenaeus?  
No, no such exotic...it has to sound normal...unsuspicious ...  
  
Kevin? A good Irish name! Kevin, the beautiful, the pleasant, the graceful, the gracious ...  
  
Yes.  
Maybe Kevin.  
  
So for now he put these thoughts on ice.  
  
  
Wilde's fairy tales were a big disappointment for Jim! They are dripping with selfless, sacrificial love and Christian charity! At least the ones he had read, because at some point he had thrown the book into the fire in disgust. A nightingale that pierced his little heart with a thorn to color a white rose red, so that a student can give it to his beloved, because she said, she would dance with him, if he brings her a red rose. But the silly goose wouldn't even look at him! The statue of the Happy Prince and his friend, a swallow, both ruined themselves in order to do charity! The Selfish Giant is finally letting a pack of rampaging children into his beautiful garden, the young king is taught by three dreams that his wealth causes so much suffering – how unbearable pious!  
And of course the Star-Child ...  
Everything quite terrible!  
  
And his only novel?  
Dorian Gray?  
Ah, Dorian! You had everything! You had eternal youth and a cold, unwavering heart!  
How could you reject these priceless treasures?  
I know well what I would have done in his place! Jim thought from time to time.  
  
Even some of the aphorisms he valued highly. Only the immoral ones, of course.  
His favorite saying was and remained: „To love yourself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.“  
A good advice, but that came too late for Jim, because he was longing for the one, who was made for him.  
  
And then there was a play by Oscar Wilde, to whom he had a very peculiar relationship: Salome!  
He always had been keen on the violent stories from the Bible. And that’s how he'd learned about them: Jim's godfather was a priest. (And what else could he have been, he was the family idiot!) He did his very best right from the start to fulfill this task conscientiously. But he could see that the stories of the Good Lord Jesus just bored little Jimmy. In order to still somehow inspire him for the Bible, he had gone over to try the most bloodthirsty stories of the Old Testament. Later on, Jim actually was interested in some New Testament narratives too; as the Temptation of Christ or the Passion...  
  
What exactly fascinated the boy that much, was hidden from the religious fool.  
  
Oscar Wilde's poetic language – based on the strange style of the Song of Solomon – made the dramolet about the end of the Baptist for Jim an enchanting and intoxicating masterpiece: The beautiful princess listens to the prophet John Baptist – here historically accurate named lokanaan. Inside of the cistern, in which he is imprisoned, he makes terrible ordeals concerning her stepfather and her mother. The girl is frightened but at the same time she falls for his strange voice. She insists in talking to him.  
  
(Once, James had seen the opera version of Richard Strauss, and the part of the prophet is a bass-baritone.)  
  
Salome charms the young captain who is in love with her, because she wants lokanaan to be left up from the cistern, so that she can talk to him. After a short initial irritation she is quickly enamored and starts dredging at him like an unabashed nymphomaniac - though still a virgin, already completely spoiled by their adulterous mother: She praises his body, which is white like the lilies on the field - but lokanaan not only rejects but also curses her and she makes all her compliments canceled out, calls him a whited grave filled with disgusting things, only to fall for him all over again: this time for his black curls, but she only gets rejected again and reacts with a new tirade of hatred. Finally, she longs to kiss his red mouth... But the prophet remains unmoved, he preaches her to seek Jesus and ask Him for forgiveness for her sins and redemption for her soul and then he returns down in his prison.  
The rest is history: But in Wilde’s play it is Salome herself, not her mother, who called on the head of the prophet on a silver platter. Her stepfather, afraid of incurring the wrath of God, doesn’t want to kill the probably holy man and offers her lots of treasures! Even half of his kingdom, and finally even to share the throne with him! But this stupid chick refuses everything and stubbornly pursues her revenge. So Iokanaan is beheaded. Even now she is still convinced that he would have fallen for her too if he had only looked at her. After she caressed and kissed the severed head, her stepfather immediately sentences her to death.  
Nevertheless Jim was fascinated by the morbid, self-destructive consistancy of this figure. She wanted to hold this guy. And if that did not work: head off!  
  
Of course Jim had a weakness for the illustrations of Aubrey Beardsley**. Historically incorrect, this Art Nouveau artists had presented the prophet beardless, but Jim liked the image: A gaunt, pale young man with luscious lips, sharp but also feminine facial features and curly black hair – but with an energetic voice, similar to thunder. Tremendous but also worshipably graceful. Delicately androgynous and yet awe-inspiring ...  
  
An extraordinary, but really delightful mix...  
  
  
  
tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * in German „Kopfkino“ literally „Head-Cinema“
> 
> ** http://www.victorianweb.org/art/illustration/beardsley/11.html.


	6. The Quest for the Frood Prince (1996-2001)

 

Jim tied a lot of contacts, slowly and persistently weaving his web. Surreptitiously he checked all the connections, tested the reactions to moves of certain strengths, hacked into accounts, sold secrets.

In short: in a modern way, he became the sorcerer king he had wanted to be from the very beginning.

And he was still looking for him: Sherlock Holmes.

His desire grew.

Sometimes he lost himself in daydreams, imagined how he would find him one day, speculated what he looked like, worried whether his romantic hopes would be let down...

Over and over again he searched the internet for this one name – and finally, one day he found out that Sherlock Holmes studied chemistry in Camford, that he was epee fencing, acting in an amateur theatre and loved to dance!

Jim was thrilled to bits!

He had found him! Even before his 25th birthday!

The entire western world was in fear on this particular day, staring to America in horror, where terrorists had perpetrated attacks with four hijacked large passenger aircrafts, the two in New York causing the most damage by far, as they had crashed in the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center, but for Jim September 11, 2001 was the date on which he had finally tracked down Sherlock Holmes!

Jim was drunk with happiness! He searched through the websites of the University and found photos and video clips of recent theatre performances.

Now he would finally, finally see him! He almost couldn't breathe from excitement!

Beyond all measure amazed and confused, he looked at the boy he had so long desired: There he was! One time nonchalant and casual, then overflowing with youthful zeal, almost still lanky as a teenager, elegant and powerful as a ballet dancer.

Already a swan – but at times still uncertain because he was repeatedly reminded that he had once been an ugly duckling – and sometimes still believed to be one: depressed, vulnerable – just as Jim himself had been in his childhood.

Insatiable, he devoured all the material he could find!

Sherlock Holmes!

His eyes were as electrifying as a Siamese cat's and his curved lips were in a strange contrast to his energetic jawline. But Jim was especially keen on those cheekbones...

Stunned, Jim gasped for air, because he suddenly realized where this déjà vu feeling came from: That was Jokanaan...! HIS Jokanaan – well, except for his eyes, which were a thousand times better then the Babtist's black ones! But everything else was there – up to this voice that alone already put him in excitement!

Completely overwhelmed, Jim stretched on his bed: He had found his prince consort!

You're the one! Jim thought reverently: You're made for me! Just as Eve was created for Adam! God created him first, because he is the main thing, then He made all the animals, which are intended to serve man, because nothing else is meant when it is said that Adam could give them their names. But Adam was lonely, because all the other creatures were so stupid and ordinary! So God formed a second human from one side of the first! And now I can say: This is the spirit of my spirit, and flesh of my flesh!

You, Sherlock, truly are my companion!

... And should you resist me, I will tame you as Petruchio the unruly Katherina!*

I'm going to form you in my own image, just as God created Adam!

You belong to me!

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Shakespeare The Taming of the Shrew


	7. An Apple for Snow White (early 2002)

 

 

  
But when Jim had changed Universities and looked around in Camford, Sherlock Holmes was gone! An economist student named Sebastian Wilkes knew to report that Holmes had flung his studies from one day to the next. And because he had been such a loner, no one could tell Jim, why he had done that and what had become of him!

Jim was devastated! Now he would have to start from scratch!  
'I need to get out of here!', was all he could think of at that moment.  
So he hired a cab to take a ride back to London. When he was chauffeured through the familiar streets and passed some of the many museums and galleries, he suddenly had to think of his long deceased uncle Richard. 

 

He had been an art lover and even his grandfather already had collected paintings: Oil paintings, watercolors, gouaches ... Whenever little Jimmy had been taken on a visit to this uncle by his father or by both parents , he had been terribly bored because the strange coot had no computer, no telly - not even a radio or audio dramas! He had hated the modern technology, so Jimmy couldn't even bring a Walkman.

But in spring 1983, Jimmy's Mum had to go to the hospital and until she was back home, the boy had to stay with his uncle during the week, because he lived right next to the school of his nephew.  
"What – ?! With this weirdo? But he's soooo boring!", Jimmy had complained.  
"James! Don't you talk about my elder brother like that!"  
Jimmy had been quite flabbergasted, because he rarely caused his daddy to shout at him.  
"And surely he is NOT boring. You'll see!", he had ranted threateningly.  
'What's even there to see?', Jimmy had wondered, annoyed.  
On Sunday evening the time had come:  
Scowling, he had given in and braced himself for a severe ordeal.  
However, then something strange and miraculous had happened: Previously the uncle had hardly given attention to the little boy, primarily because he'd believed he couldn't deal well with children. But now his nephew was all alone with him and he seemed to be so terribly sad. But that was understandable, given that its mother was in the hospital!  
'I should try to cheer him up a bit', Richard had thought.  
But it was raining cats and dogs and Richard didn't even have board or card games.  
"Come on, Jimmy, I'll show you my paintings...", he had suggested.  
"But I already know your... paintings", the boy had muttered. (Nearly he would had said 'stupid...'!)  
"Have you had a proper look at them yet? Look. What is that?"  
"Well, A path. A forest trail!", Jim had yelped bored.  
"It's actually one of my favorites because the sun always shines and it is always summer, the flowers will never wither. Sometimes I imagine how I'd walk along that way and go into the forest..."  
"Do you know which forest it is?" Jimmy had been surprised.  
“I don't have to, I just create one in my mind”, Richard had answered. "Look, I like to wonder where the wanderer, who was allowed to enjoy this view, probably came from. I don't mean the painter, I just invent a story in my head. So where does he come from? From a poor, dismal home perhaps? Where he was beaten and had to work hard? Then he must be glad to come there! He finally has escaped and can move out into the wide world.  
Or was he driven out from his beloved native country, experienced a lot of grief already and now gains fresh hope that the future could become bright again?  
But perhaps he is not a traveler but a hunter who is chasing a deer, or a knight who will soon get into a dark den to kill an evil dragon?  
What do you think?"  
Jimmy had listened with growing astonishment.  
Stories? His boring uncle invented stories?  
But until now exactly that had always intrigued him!  
...stories about these pictures!?  
Curious, he had looked around.  
"Maybe the knight heads for his castle, after he slayed the dragon. He wants to tell everyone how brave he has been and how big and strong the dragon was and how it had almost burned him alive with its fiery breath! But when he arrives, the castle is destroyed and they are all gone!" And he pointed to another picture, showing a lone wall with a window in it, an almost black relict of a building in front of a reddish sunset sky.  
"But that would be a really sad story, my little boy. Then it would have been better the knight stayed at home, huh?"  
"Maybe the dragon flew to the castle just before the fight with the knight and had – woosh! – burned the knight's home down with all the people in it", Jimmy had mused.  
"Yes, fire can be a terrible thing ..."  
But Jimmy thought to himself: I would like to be (-) a dragon, one that can fly and breathe fire. But to be a monster nobody could recognize because it looked just like an ordinary person would be even better. Everyone would think that he's a nice man, the good king, perhaps ...  
But then another painting had caught his attention.  
"Why would anyone paint a fruit bowl?", Jimmy had asked and bit back his opinion, because that was surely deadly dull, wasn’t it?  
The uncle held back.  
'Let’s see what Jimmy makes of it', he had thought.  
"Oh, there's also a skull! That's cool! Mum certainly wouldn't tolerate such a thing on the table!  
And who was that?"  
"Who – ?" gasped the uncle, horrified. "Oh, that's more symbolic ..., you know?"  
'What? No murder? How incredibly bland!', Jimmy had thought, but said: "Sure! A sign for something."  
"Paintings like this are called still life. That was once very much in fashion."  
"This red apple is surely poisoned!", Jimmy had suspected, convinced, looking at the tempting fruit in the center with an expert eye.  
„Oh, that's quite the mean idea!“ the uncle had laughed appreciatively. „Just like in Snow White, huh?“  
„Of course it is! Look! That's why the apple next to it has become completely decayed and mouldy!  
And every child knows that a skull stands for poison!“ he had explained precocious.  
„Interesting ...!  
So, to be precise, the painting is one of a particular type of still life. A vanitas. Vanitas originally means vanity, but in this context it means that everything is fleeting, passing by and dying, so ultimately everything is vain, pointless and useless and that you should therefore use your lifetime for the things that are important to you and which make you happy. What else do you see?“  
„A knife! It looks as if it's very sharp!“  
„Yes, very good. It's outright obvious that you're a boy. But I give you a tip: Start on the left."  
"Flowers?"  
"This is a branch with apple blossoms and there is a bee – you've already learned how it works with flowers and bees, haven't you?"  
Jimmy had nodded and his uncle had continued.  
"Then there is a still green apple, then comes the red one."  
"Because the first apple isn't ripe, but the second is."  
„Exactly. ... Then in the foreground, on the plate, there is a sliced red apple with a worm in it. In the past many more fruits had worms in them than today, you know? Today we mostly poison them. So the fruits with worms inside are better for men's health. Crazy, isn't it?“  
'So the red apple isn't a murder weapon?' Jimmy had thought a little disappointed, but he hadn't voiced it out loud. It was one of those kind of his ideas, he had learned to conceal!  
Instead, he had continued listening.  
"... And finally there is the rotten, mouldy apple, which is still in the bowl. Someone should have eaten it before it had started to rot, or thrown it away afterwards.  
Hmm..., you know what? The idea with the poison is interesting too. This brown apple is actually already dead. He stands for old age and suffering... "  
„Oh, and that’s why there is a skull in the corner!“ Jimmy had shouted triumphantly. „And the knife! The knife is for cutting and eating the apple when it tastes best! "  
"Yes! Exactly! You did very well, recognizing all that!", Uncle Richard had praised the small art connoisseur. That the apple also stands for the Fall of Man and for sex, he rather hadn't wanted to explain yet.

During the few years which uncle Richard had still remained afterwards, Jim had actually enjoyed visiting him. They had thought up stories for the paintings and shared them, but Jim had never again told his favourite versions, because he rather kept these fairy tales of death and destruction to himself. The stupid people would just tell him that they disliked his stories. Just like the innocuous apple with the worm, that was actually so much better…!

"Stop here. I've changed my mind," Jim decided, sighing, paid the cabbie and got out.

  
Yes, the red apple...!  
...and his Snow White Prince with his opal-blue eyes...  
Where might he have gone?  
Would he find him again when they were still young?  
"It is thy mouth that I desire, Jokanaan. Thy mouth is like a band of scarlet on a tower of ivory. It is like a pomegranate cut in twain with a knife of ivory. The pomegranate flowers that blossom in the gardens of Tyre, and are redder than roses, are not so red..." some lines from Oscar Wilde's Salomé occurred to him.  
In this melancholy mood Jim walked into the museum, the cab had stopped in front of.

 

 

 


	8. A Star Is Born (continuation)

  
  


In this melancholy mood Jim walked into the museum, the cab had stopped in front of. He tried to cheer himself up by thinking up little stories about the paintings, just as he had used to when he had been with his uncle.

Among the old Flemish masters he became aware of/took notice of the view of a seaport.

,View of Delft, the sign read. At first glance, it was a typical "postcard motif". If it had been a photograph it would have been totally boring, because today practically everyone could make a passable picture of a landscape, but this was a genuine Vermeer. Why had he painted his town? Because he had loved it? Because the Thirty Years' War hadn't been over for long and he had still remembered how disastrous it had been? Or had it simply been a commissioned work?

  
Jim knew nothing about the paintings history, but that wasn’t important to him. He was interested in the potential of it's content, and he _almost_ crawled into it, so _he wouldn't miss_ any details : the viewer was ashore, looking over the harbour across the city.  In the foreground one can see a piece of the shore where a barge lay stowed. Had the people who were standing there just arrived with it? Did they finally feel firm ground under their feet again, after a long journey ? Or were they about to leave? The figure on the left seemed to be a woman with a baby. There were two gentlemen and another lady. Two women stood further on the right, a little bit apart maybe in a chat... or maybe they said goodbye to one another?

  
I would have painted it differently, Jim thought pensively. I would have placed only two shapes there. Only dark silhouettes. So that every viewer could imagine to be one of them or to wonder what probably was going on in their minds. Did they long to escape by one of the big ships from their dreary everyday lifes? Were they maybe secret lovers? Was one of them or even both caught in a loveless marriage?  
Or was there something else standing in the way of their happiness?

(Yes, he was really in a very romantic mood!)

Or I would have painted it completely from the water, he further considered. This would inspire the imagination even more! Then the viewer could dream to stand on the bow of the ship and can't wait to come home again! Or is the opposite the case? He stands on the rear, in deep pain of parting, filled with the feeling of (Das ist auch schwierig..) homesickness? Or gladly that this chapter of his life lies behind him? Or has he escaped by the skin of his teeth from his pursuers, after he had committed a crime...?

And I would have also painted it at night....

With a starry sky above ...  


Oh, Sherlock...! Do you love the starry night sky...? There are things you can see better in the darkness than in daylight...

Often, however, he simply recognized the stories which the paintings were actually telling: There was Saint George, for instance, who kills the dragon, or the treacherous Delilah who has just cut off Samson’s long magic hair, so that his enemies can put him in chains and blind him. A perishable woman, just like Salome. But cold and ingenious... One of the first secret agents of the world history ...

'Oh, Sherlock, my love! The two of us could have developed new poisons and explosives...! I would have shown you how to program malicious computer viruses and Trojans and how to hack into everything, everywhere! We would have acted in the same amateur theatre in plays of great deeds and unbridled passions. We would have gotten close quite quickly. You could have discovered how similar we are, how fantastically we complement each other.

You would have even found yourself, you glorious, proud swan!

Why did you run away, my darling?', he wondered as he wandered through the exhibition rooms.

And then a magnificent thought came to him: I'll become an actor!

But OF COURSE I'll become an actor! I'm going to be brilliant! I've fooled the whole world my entire life long, haven't I?! For my work, it will be useful to master this art, the new experiences will distract me from my desire and last but not least: I had already considered anyway that a second identity could be very helpful in many respects...!

Too bad, however, that he needed a nice image. He had to be an actor, you would occupy as a young lover or a harmless, friendly sidekick, a guy who would make a good daddy or a dedicated empathetic physician. No bad guy, no villain...

Anyway! He was already playing that part in his real, secret life!

Now also the previous question for a suitable name came back up.

Kevin ...

Really Kevin?

Everybody would think of that movie about the cheeky little boy, whose family forgets him at home, when they go on their Christmas-holiday...!

No.

A pity, it is a beautiful name, but – no, never!

Within a few seconds his plan matured and when he already saw himself as a prize-winning television star, he spotted a painting on the most distant wall of the exhibition room he currently was in.

A rocky mountain...

...hmm...

...Cliff...?

Ha-ha! Cliff Hanger! That would be the right name for a stunt double or an action actor!

When he reached the painting, he realized that it hadn't been the mountains, nor the valley below, which the painter had been fascinated in, but that there was a waterfall in the centre.

And what a waterfall that was...!

Wow! Jim thought, impressed. Whoever got in there, was beyond redemption; the water drew him inexorably into it's depths!

  
He had to think of Edgar Alan Poe's short story A Descent into the Maelström \- only that this would happen a lot faster!  


This waterfall is just as deadly as I am. Whoever gets in my sphere of activity, I won't release them again. It can devour men, yet its water remains bright and clear. I can wipe out life, yet I’ll always have a clean slate, my reputation will always stay impeccable!

Rapt in contemplation he stood there for a while.

'You are just like me', Jim thought.

And then he read the small sign that was pinned to the wall next to it:

William Turner: The Reichenbach Falls.

That's it!

This will be my pseudonym! Also a little bit in memoriam of Uncle Richard.

Rich will be my friendly, nice, sensitive alter ego. An esthete with a charming, likeable character. A pretty mask of myself. A harmless avatar, which will open all doors for me. The doors to the hearts of all the stupid, ordinary, little people.

But woe to them if they let me come in, because I will devour them from inside, like the worm the apple!

And in that very moment, Richard Brook was born.

So Jim started his second life. He falsified identity documents and certificates and went to a drama school. And although he practically felt nothing of the great emotions that he should express, he was absolutely convincing.

Pain. Heartbreak. Loss... Death.

He loved the really big subjects, the self-destructive emotions. He didn't really know them and he didn’t want to find out at all - he surely wasn’t a sick masochist! But he loved to evoke them in his audience and he enjoyed it, to let everyone suffer who got in his way.

These small, sensitive little human beings! They were so easy to torture and it was such a pleasure to watch them.

Rich Brook tore them all away.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [http://www.mauritshuis.nl/-/media/eaf9af819b5e418e93fe2d5e45f82705.ashx?mw=3000&mh=3000&dl=1](http://www.mauritshuis.nl/-/media/eaf9af819b5e418e93fe2d5e45f82705.ashx?mw=3000&mh=3000&dl=1)
> 
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> 
> Sorry, in the original version the previous chapter contains a little missunderstanding between Richard and Jimmy concearning a homonym, that doesn't work in English...  
> (If we mean "I imagine/dream of", we can say: "Ich male mir aus, wie..." - When Richard uses this phrase Jimmy thinks about colouring pictures for little children, they are "zum Ausmalen" = "to fill the space between lines of a drawing with colour").
> 
> Well, it was funny when one online-translator made of "E. A. Poes Geschichte vom Malstrom" (as I whrote first in German) "E. A. Poe's tale of the whirlpool" or told us that "the apple was lazy", but I fear prodigalmind an me couldn't trace every single mistake.  
> Sorry for that.  
> And we will gratefully receive your corrections! ;-)


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